Robert shook his head. “How do you find her, emotionally?”
“It’s really too soon to say. She’s very withdrawn, but I think she’s aware of where she is. My return has confused her.”
There was a long silence between the two men, the only sound in the room that of the crackling fire.
“So, what are your plans?” Robert asked.
“I don’t know yet. There are a lot of questions that have to be answered. And at this point Christina is in no condition to answer them.” He turned to Robert. “How much longer can I avoid prayers?”
“Two days. No more. I’ve explained your vow of silence and that you’re having some emotional difficulties of your own, but you’ll have to begin to fit into life around here soon. It’s quite irregular that I’ve assigned you to the Pilgrims’ Hospice, but I don’t expect anyone to question that decision as long as you conform to the rest of our rules. And by the way, as far as anyone’s concerned, you’re fasting until you return to offices. You can share Christina’s food for the next two days.”
Richard looked surprised.
“It’s the only way to excuse you from taking communal meals, which you will have to do in the future.” Robert laughed softly as he walked Richard to the door. “Who knows, this may do that soul of yours some good,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as they neared the doors to the outer office.
Richard embraced his brother. “Thank you. For everything.”
Robert smiled. “The important thing will be making Christina understand how this is to be played out. There mustn’t be any mistakes. And you might walk the cloister at least once a day and try to look contemplative.”
It was Richard’s turn to smile. “That shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Leave off, woman,” Stefano said as Sabine salaciously slid her tongue down the inside of his thigh. “Are you trying to ruin me?”
Sabine laughed, refusing to believe she couldn’t convince him that he wanted her just one more time.
“I should have brought that mysterious twin of mine home to meet you. Perhaps between the two of us we could have satisfied you once and for all.”
He’d told her about Signore Bonelli the day after they’d met. She was so intrigued with the idea of taking both of them to her bed that she’d encouraged Stefano to find him. She’d even offered him a substantial sum if he could accomplish it, but all his efforts had come to naught. The only ship that was sailing for Spain on the day he’d met the man belonged to the Baron of Beauvu. Despite inquiries of other ships as well as sailors, no one seemed to know a Ricardo Bonelli. The mention of his name did cause a curious expression or two and one of the captains seemed quite taken aback by Stefano’s appearance, but he claimed to know no sailors named Bonelli.
In the end, Stefano had to content himself with leaving a message at the inn where they’d met. The ship that had sailed for Spain was not due to return for six weeks.
Stefano began to think about how he might convince the man to join him and Sabine, at least for a while. And what sailor would be likely to turn down a few days of relaxation in comparative luxury and in the company of a beautiful woman? Unless, of course, his tastes ran the other direction… and Stefano was beginning to ponder that possibility. Either way, he was convinced it would prove a satisfactory diversion for all concerned, if only it could be arranged.
Sabine, eliciting no response from her lover, moved back up beside him. “I think you have been lying to me, Chéri. There is no handsome twin to share our bed.”
“Ah, but there is, my dear. I have only to find him.” He reached over to caress her breast. “Why don’t you tell me what you would have him do if he were here with us now?”
Sabine proceeded to do just that, and to do it with enough enthusiasm that Stefano found his own desire rekindled.
On that same day Maryse decided she would call on Christina. She’d procrastinated far too long, concerned for Christina’s well-being, but unsure whether Guy had told her the truth about their departure for Italy. She knew she wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d been to their house and assured herself that they were, indeed, not in Arles.
But Maryse’s concern for Christina invariably led to thoughts of Richard. She hadn’t seen him since the night they’d spent together just before her wedding, with the exception of two times when they had passed each other on the street. She’d been with her husband and Richard had only courteously nodded in her direction. But he’d remained a presence in her life, nonetheless, and had saved her husband from ruin during the grain shortages by assuring him a portion of the cargos his ships carried. Richard’s generosity had saved Christien’s business and helped him to prosper during very difficult times. And there had been lovely gifts on the occasions of the births of her two children, but the notes that accompanied them were only formal wishes for their good fortune.
There had been nothing more until Christien had died suddenly, just a year ago. Richard’s letter at that time had been brief, but she’d sensed the concern behind the formal condolences. He’d assured her that should she ever need his help, she had only to ask. But of course she had not replied. She was a wealthy woman now and needed no one’s help. Still, she held fond memories of her love for Richard and she kept them close to her heart, as she always had. It was wonderful just knowing that he sometimes thought of her, too.
She forced her thoughts back to Christina. Christina had asked her to help her “get away.” Maryse had little doubt it was her husband Christina wished to get away from, but she didn’t know what kind of help Christina wanted from her. She would certainly be willing to do anything she could.
There was something else that bothered her and that was the talk that was going around Madame Tallandier’s that day concerning Christina’s state of mind. Was it possible Christina had taken leave of her senses? She hated to believe such a thing, but a woman like Christina might have had to sacrifice something, perhaps even her sanity, to endure a relationship with a man like Guy Jonvaux. Well, soon she would be able to judge for herself.
Maryse was met at the door of the Jonvaux house by Agnes, who assured her that both her master and mistress were in Venice and would not be returning until the spring. She promised to let them know that Maryse had called. With a smirk, she shut the door in Maryse’s face.
Guy sat in his office three floors above his factory, anticipating the meeting to come. He’d spent several weeks trying to locate Stefano’s youngest brother, Benito. Guy had never met the boy, who’d apparently hired himself out as a laborer on a farm outside the city. Now, it was nearly October and the bulk of the harvest was in. There was little left to do and so his master had agreed to allow him a few days off.
Guy turned from the desk and looked out the window. The late afternoon sunlight bathed the lagoon in misty shades of lavender and gold. He liked Venice. He’d spent time there since he was a child, traveling back and forth between Venice and Arles with his father. Now, as an adult and as the owner of a rapidly expanding business, he’d attained a measure of social standing there, just as he had at home.
The only thing lacking in his life at the moment was his wife at his side. Christina’s change in attitude angered him greatly, though he knew he’d been wise to leave her behind. He couldn’t control her in Venice. There were too many of her relatives nearby and he couldn’t risk her confiding in any of them. He had to keep her where he could be sure she was being carefully watched, which meant either in his home in Arles or at the Abbey of Montmajour. He’d chosen the latter. And if there was any question of Robert’s reliability, Guy had other means of monitoring his wife’s behavior.
There was a knock at the door and Guy turned back to the desk, a pleasant smile on his face as he prepared to meet the young man he hoped would prove to be a youthful version of Stefano. As the boy entered the office and came to stand before the desk, the smile abruptly disappeared from Guy’s face, only to be replaced with an angry scowl.
“
Scusi,
Signore
,
you sent for me?” The boy stood quietly, nervously twisting his cap in his hand.
“You’re Benito? Stefano’s brother?” Guy’s tone could not hide his surprise or his disappointment as he looked the boy over. He bore no resemblance whatsoever to Stefano. He was of average height and somewhat stocky, but Guy was most dismayed by the unruly shock of russet hair and the smattering of freckles that covered his face. He simply would not do. He would not do at all.
“
Si,
Signore
.
”
“It looks as though your mother must have remarried after your brother Stefano was born.” To Guy’s surprise, the boy’s cheeks turned scarlet.
“My mother never married, Signore
,
” Benito said, quietly.
Guy was disgusted. Why had he expected anything else? He knew he’d been wrong to hope there would be a strong resemblance, but two of Stefano’s older brothers worked for him there and they were both dark, though neither was a good looking as Stefano…or Richard.
“Well, I’m afraid that you’ve come a long way for nothing,” he said crossly. “I apologize.”
Guy stood, removed a coin from the pocket of his waistcoat and tossed it across the desk to Benito, who deftly caught it. “That should compensate you for your trouble.”
Richard returned to his room and then quietly entered Christina’s. He found her still in bed, but she wasn’t asleep. She seemed surprised by his appearance from behind the hanging that covered the door connecting the two rooms, and wary of him as he approached the bed. She sat up, pulling the covers close.
“I’m sorry, Chrissa. I didn’t mean to startle you. Would you rather be alone?” he asked, stopping where he was.
She shook her head but seemed unwilling to speak.
Richard smiled in an effort to reassure her. “I thought perhaps I could explain Robert’s plans for me while I’m here at the abbey. We’re both going to need your help.”
When she continued to stare at him, Richard took her silence for acquiescence and went to get one of the small chairs and placed it next to the bed. He was perplexed. He hoped last night had restored her confidence or at least allowed her to feel comfortable around him, but she seemed even more apprehensive as he sat down.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly, at the same time reaching out to her and laying his hand, palm up, on the bedcovers.
For a moment she looked at him and then, for another moment, she looked at his hand. Tentatively, she put hers in his. He tenderly lifted her fingers to his lips. When their eyes met again, hers were beginning to fill with tears.
Without letting go of her hand, he stood up and moved over to sit on the bed. “Chrissa, is my being here causing you pain? As I told you before, you have only to say the word and I’ll go.”
“No!” She threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him desperately.
He held her while she cried, unable to think of anything he could say to comfort her.
When at last she quieted, he held her away from him and brushed the hair back from her wet cheeks. “Dear Heart, what is it? What can I do?”
“Please…don’t leave me.”
“Oh, Chrissa, I won’t. I promise. I’ll never leave you again.” He pulled her to him and hugged her as tightly as he dared, still considerate of her injuries. “Now, would you like me to help you dress?”
Christina shook her head.
“Then maybe you should rest.”
He released her and reluctantly she lay down.
“Don’t go,” she whispered.
“I won’t,” he said. “I’ll be right here. I have some studying to do for this new vocation of mine.”
He sat down in the chair and pulled the sheaf of Robert’s notes from his sleeve. Christina was staring at him. When he saw her desperate expression, he reached over and took her hand again.
It was some minutes before she finally closed her eyes.
Christina closed her eyes, but she wasn’t sleeping. She still wondered why Richard had come, now, after so many years. But maybe, she thought, if he doesn’t want to take me with him when he goes, he will at least help me leave Arles.
If he only knew how very much I love him, he would do that much for me.
In that moment Christina realized she just couldn’t bear the pain of losing Richard again or the heartbreak that trying to believe in his love was sure to bring her.
No, not that. Better to be content with a few months of peace.
More than anything in the world, Christina wanted peace.
With that thought, she finally fell asleep.
When she woke, Richard thought she seemed less anxious, but he also felt she’d slipped farther away, that there was a little more distance between them. It was difficult to define and seemed even harder to change as he concentrated instead on explaining Robert’s plan to allow him to fit into life at the abbey. He could only hope she understood what he was telling her, for her expression gave him cause to doubt she was making any sense of it. Nonetheless, he did his best to make her understand he would be expected to attend devotions eight times a day, beginning with Matins and ending with Compline. Though he’d be with her as much as he could, it seemed that most of his time not spent at prayer would be devoted to the translation of some ancient Greek manuscripts Robert had acquired.
He suggested that if she wanted to speak to him outside her room, she converse with him in Italian, but she had to remember he was supposed to be under a vow of silence and would not be able to answer her. He did his best to impress her with the fact that Robert had taken a great deal of trouble to insure his safety and they owed it to him to comply with his wishes.
Christina had little to say during their meal and afterward, when Richard wanted to apply the ointment to her back again, she didn’t object. He pulled one of the wooden chairs in front of the fire and she sat down sideways in it and loosened the front of her dressing gown. Richard knelt behind her and gently slid the fabric off her shoulders.
The welts and bruises seemed worse than he remembered and he found himself getting angry all over again. He applied the medication silently, not trusting himself to speak. When he finished, he slid the dressing gown up onto her shoulders again, pausing briefly to kiss the nape of her neck where a tiny wisp of her hair formed a curl.